Chapter 4:
The morning mist coiled around the Azure Cloud Peaks, painting the sect in shades of pale silver and blue. Long Tian stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the vast mountain range, his robe fluttering lightly in the wind. His eyes were calm—but beneath that calmness was a storm of determination.
Three years ago, he had died with his veins shattered. Now, reborn, he carried not only his will but the whispers of the Heaven's Forgotten Tomb within his soul. That ancient voice that had given him a second chance still lingered in the depths of his consciousness, faint yet steady—The Dragon Vein must awaken.
He clenched his fists. "If fate grants me this chance, I will no longer walk the path of ignorance. I'll carve my own destiny."
The sect's morning bells rang out across the mountains, signaling the start of daily training. Disciples hurried to their assigned courts, dressed neatly in azure robes. Long Tian turned and began his walk toward the Outer Martial Grounds. It had been three years since he last stepped foot here… in his previous life, that is.
This time, he would not remain a forgotten outer disciple mocked for his "useless" bloodline. He knew the truth now—his bloodline was not dormant, merely sealed. And within that seal rested a force far beyond mortal comprehension.
As he entered the training grounds, whispers immediately followed him.
"Isn't that Long Tian? The one who failed to condense his second Qi layer for two years?"
"Ha! Still pretending to be calm? I heard even his junior sister surpassed him."
"He's just a waste with a broken foundation. No one expects anything from him anymore."
Long Tian ignored them all. The old Long Tian might have felt shame or anger, but the man now walking in his body had witnessed death, betrayal, and rebirth. Their mockery was like dust before the wind.
A familiar voice called out from behind, sharp and mocking.
"Well, if it isn't Brother Long. I thought you had given up already."
He turned. Zhang Wei stood there, the same sneering face as before. He was one of Li Shen's lackeys, someone who delighted in bullying weaker disciples to earn favor. In Long Tian's past life, Zhang Wei had once humiliated him in front of the sect by forcing him into a duel he couldn't win.
Long Tian's lips curved faintly. "Zhang Wei."
The other disciple folded his arms. "You've been missing training sessions again. Hopeless as ever, huh? Maybe you should beg Senior Brother Li to take pity on you again."
Li Shen. That name stirred cold fury in Long Tian's heart, but he merely smiled. "You're right. I have been missing training… but I'll make it up to you. How about a spar?"
The surrounding disciples gasped.
"Is he insane?"
"Zhang Wei's already at the third stage of Qi Condensation! Long Tian will be crippled!"
Zhang Wei blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing. "You? Challenge me? Fine, I'll play along. Let's see how long you last."
The two stepped onto the open ring. The crowd quickly gathered, eager for entertainment.
Zhang Wei grinned, flexing his knuckles. "Don't blame me if I break your bones."
Long Tian's expression remained calm. He lowered his stance, his breath steady, his body relaxed. His spiritual energy began to flow, weak but controlled. Deep within, he felt it—the faint rhythm of the Dragon Vein pulsing beneath his skin.
Zhang Wei lunged first, his palm shimmering with blue light. "Azure Palm Strike!"
The strike came fast, carrying the wind's pressure. In the past, Long Tian would have panicked. But now, everything seemed slower, clearer. His memories from the tomb—the countless martial arts, the flow of Qi, the principles of balance—unfolded instinctively in his mind.
He sidestepped smoothly, pivoting just enough to let Zhang Wei's palm brush past his sleeve. Then, before his opponent could recover, Long Tian's hand shot forward. His palm glowed faintly gold—weak, but refined.
Heaven-Splitting Palm.
A boom echoed through the arena. Dust exploded into the air. Zhang Wei flew backward, landing hard on the ground, coughing blood.
The crowd fell silent.
"W–What just happened?"
"Did Long Tian just… win?"
"That palm technique—how did he learn that?"
Long Tian straightened his robe and looked down at Zhang Wei, his gaze cold but unhurried. "You should learn to think before speaking, Zhang Wei. The tongue can be more dangerous than a sword."
Then, without another word, he turned and left the ring.
As he walked away, whispers broke out again—but this time, they were not filled with ridicule. They were filled with disbelief, curiosity, and the first hints of fear.
From a distance, a pair of eyes watched him from the training pavilion. Elder Han, the same man who had once guided him toward the tomb, stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Interesting… so the boy finally shows potential."
But beside the elder stood another figure—Li Shen. His perfect smile never wavered, but his eyes darkened slightly. "Long Tian, you just refuse to stay buried, don't you?"
Long Tian paused at the edge of the mountain path, looking at the sky. The morning sun burned brighter now, its rays cutting through the mist.
He whispered softly, "This is just the beginning."
The Dragon Vein pulsed faintly within him, responding to his resolve. Somewhere deep in his soul, the ancient whispers stirred once more.
"He who walks the path of the Dragon Vein shall defy heaven itself."
And so, the first step toward vengeance—and transcendence—had been taken.